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Sweat saturated their hair, matting the strands together as they shot up from their slumber. The sensation of blood still trickling between their fingertips. The weight of a slowly cooling body still sat in their arms, bisected from shoulder to hip for all eternity it seemed. The remnants of screams sat on their tongue, making their throat blisteringly dry. Bile threatened to rise from the depths from their stomach in between their incoherent begging and sobbing. It was a sight that they never seemed to be able to shake. They sat like that, for a moment, maybe more, unable to do anything else, a victim trapped in their own body.
The creak of the floorboards was the only thing to pull them out of their nuclear state, ceasing their distraught cries. Reality sank in, but not fully as their hand shot down to the bed next to them, searching for the man who should still be tucked into the sheets. Panic washed over them as they found the bed empty, chest rattling hopelessly as the lines between worlds remained blurry.
“Walter?” Bloodhound breathed out, almost as though they were begging.
In the doorway to the bedroom, the man appeared, a glass of water clenched in his hands. “You’re having a rough night too, aye?”
There was a slight tremble to his hand, Bloodhound could see it from where they sat, tied up in the cords connecting them to their respirator. Listening to their screams wasn’t easy on Walter’s mind, he’d woken up to them more times than he could count, but he knew better than to interfere with their nightmares. Even still, he wouldn’t change it for the world, he’d rather be there to soothe them when they woke up, than have them suffer alone.
“Did I wake you?” God’s they felt small, despite being forty, they felt no older than when they were a child, begging for their uncle.
Crossing the room, their partner took a sip of his drink as he sat next to their legs before passing the cup over for them to take. “No, not tonight. My ache’s n’ pains were givin’ me a hard time so I’ve been up and down.”
Bloodhound’s brow furrowed, nodding to his right side. “Your arm?”
“All of it – the works. My eye, arm, right down to me bloody toes.” The man spat bitterly, not at them but to the agonizing burning below his skin.
Taking the glass, they shifted around to hang their feet over the edge of the bed, lifting their oxygen mask up to take a drink. “Is there anything I can do?”
Frowning grimly, Walter pressed their sides together. “Unfortunately it's just one of those things I need to ride out, love.”
“In the morning, we could speak to the healers, or contact Ajay if you’d prefer.” Bloodhound suggested, carefully resting their head on the man’s shoulder.
“I’ll be alright, I promise.” Walter breathed back softly. “Don’t worry about me.”
Bloodhound snorted tiredly, no heat to their words. “Why must you be so stubborn?”
Walter chuckled, chest rumbling at the remark. “For the same reasons as to why I gave the doctors – and Mags – a run for their money after I lost my eye.”
For all the stories the man had told them, this was one they had yet to hear of. “Go on.”
“I gave them all grey hairs for wanting an eyepatch instead of getting a replacement. I told them that unless it can shoot lasers, I’d do just fine, albeit with a lack of depth perception, but you get the idea. Plus I think you’d agree that the eyepatch makes me look more hot and rugged.”
With a loving roll of their eyes, Bloodhound sighed. “A perfect match for your mullet.”
Grinning, Walter pressed a kiss to their temple. “Don’t play hard to get, I know you love it, you’ve said as much.”
“I said that I had not grown tired of it, though at this very moment, I feel my patience waning, might I go get the shears?” Bloodhound reached up to ruffle the man's salt and pepper locks.
“Hey now – let's not get too hasty there, Houndy.” Walter ducked away sluggishly, giggling as he shifted around.
Before they could continue their playful banter, Walter doubled over with a groan. His metallic right arm contorting itself haphazardly, Walter unable to control the malfunctioning appendage. It often had a mind of its own, the wiring becoming damaged due to the fact that it was used to toss grenades, unlike most other prosthesis. Reaching around, they carefully unclipped the bands holding it onto their lovers body, the neural link was clearly causing Walter discomfort. Helping him remove his arm, they gently set it down at the foot of the bed as he massaged the remains of his shoulder. Bloodhound ran their cool hands up and down his spine, slipping them up underneath his white tanktop.
Sighing from the slight relief, Walter closed his eye. “Y’know, normally, I deal with all this by myself. I don’t wanna burden you with my broken body.”
“It’s the body I love dearly and will mend back to health every time it is needed. You will never be a burden, Walter.” They replied soothingly, feeling the tension in his muscles.
Walter grit his teeth as he worked through the waves of discomfort. “It’s not even my arm, my toes too, sometimes I can’t balance properly if I don’t have my boots on. They ache if I do, ache if I don’t. God I’m getting old.”
They let him vent, quietly listening as they always did. Offering him water in between bouts of ranting over how his body would fail him. This too was a feeling they were familiar with.
“I’m not even mad about if I start hurting during matches and it affects my performance – it's when I’m at home that it bothers me. Like right now, we should be curled up in bed sleeping, or doing more work for the village.” Walter huffed, deflating some as a wave of exhaustion slammed into him. “It's for the same reason that I stopped drinking. I had better things to do than self-medicating every day. When we’re out I have non-alcoholic drinks, Elliot keeps them in the back for me.”
“Walter…” Bloodhound frowned at the admissions of their lover.
There was so much he kept to himself, so much they still didn’t know despite being engaged.
“I just want to do better so I can live out a long retirement with you.” Walter grumbled, shoulders sagging. “I want to be able to help you on nights like these, instead of making it all about myself. I’m making a bloody mess of this aren’t I?”
“It is not a competition of whose pain is worse. We struggle in different ways, though that is why we are here, to support each other.” Bloodhound uttered, moving their mask to kiss their lover’s neck. “Whilst I may have never broken a bone or lost a limb, I can sympathize. With my lungs how they are, my battles with depression, and all that has happened in the past, I will never see you as lesser, my love. I will be here for your pains, just as you do for mine.”
It was true, more days now than they could count, Walter could pull them out of bed whilst they were seemingly paralyzed by grief. He’d be there after night terrors that even the best therapists the Syndicate could offer couldn’t crack nor could their medicines they offered. There was an old tale, a belief of sorts from the old Earth, that when someone had yet to break a bone, it meant they were built for emotional tests. Mostly these things were superstitions that teenagers had created, to which Bloodhound would agree, though they did believe in fate, so there may have been some truth to the words. Their mind would be the final test in their journey, something they would battle for the rest of their life. Even still, they would wake up and prepare for battle on the days in which it was hardest. At least now they could say they had someone to help pull them through it, and all they could wish was that Walter would let them do the same.
The couple lingered on the edge of the bed for a while, peering over to the wooden clock on the wall that mocked them. Walter before long began to doze where he sat so Bloodhound pulled his body up onto their side of the bed, donating their blanket and pillow to the man. In turn, they tucked themself in, rearranging their mask so they could stick their nose into Walter’s pillow, allowing the scent of his hair gel and cologne to lull them to sleep.
The nightmares never had gotten easier to manage. Sedatives, stabilizers, herbal supplements, and a laundry list of therapies never seemed to make a dent in the symptoms. It was getting harder and harder to manage, waking up irate and exhausted day after day. It had been a routine they had dealt with for twenty years, but after getting engaged, it had only gotten worse. Bloodhound was uncertain if it was due to the fact that Walter was their competitor in the Apex Games. They were forced to watch him die day in and day out, watch him get pieced back together, and force a smile when they greeted him in the medical bay. Bloodhound liked to pretend it didn’t bother them and yet here they were, wondering how much more of it they could take. Retirement was tempting, but they both were too passionate about their work, it would be like clipping a bird's wings, something they could not bear to do. Though, they were almost certain this is why their dream bound terrors were gaining in intensity and why they persisted more aggressively.
The Games were a way to reopen and close the same blood soaked wounds. Everything happened faster than they could manage now. It was a vicious cycle they were unable to escape from it seemed.
At the very least, they were able to find ways to clear their head. The village's move to Gaea had been difficult and quite possibly the busiest period of their life. Between work and community obligations, they had yet to fully map out the new territory they found themselves living upon. With Walter at their side, during midseason breaks, they would rise early in the mornings and pick a direction to start walking in. Bloodhound would carry a notebook, carefully mapping any useful landmarks or places of interest to come back to. Walter easily carried their banter, being the more charismatic of the two. Days like these were different from the hunts they went on, they were simply allowing the winds to carry them without a particular goal in mind. For once, they allowed themself to just exist.
“-and so I told him that he’d have to pay me double after not only clearing out that Prowler's nest but also saving his son's ass! The old man didn’t like the sounds of that and turned around and broke me nose, can you believe that?” Walter animatedly exclaimed as they walked, following along a creek bed.
“Mhmm.” Bloodhound responded as they scribbled down something onto the brown pages of their booklet.
Despite their quiet response, Walter continued on contently. “Well, in the end Mags n’ I got him straightened out, that's a story for another day though. How’s that map of yours coming along?”
They passed over a gigantic twisting root, using it as a bridge, the area opening up to the mouth of a waterfall, caressed by marshy grounds. Shrugging, Bloodhound looked down at their wrist, spying the compass that was built inside their watch. Writing down the coordinates and direction they were in, Bloodhound snapped the pages shut. Taking a moment to admire the beauty, the pair moved to the edge, looking down and to where the cliff face met the seaside.
Walter let out a sharp whistle. “Looks like a long way down, wouldn’t wanna slip off from up here, she’d be a nasty spill if you did.”
Bloodhound’s stomach churned, finding themself getting dizzy over the heights, not to mention the thought of dealing with water entering their respirator. “Agreed. Let us keep moving.”
Stepping away from the dampened stones, Bloodhound shuffled back to the tree line as Walter took point, arms swaying at his side without a care in the world. They moved to pull out their notebook again until they slammed into Walter’s back.
“Mitt love, what is–” Looking up they were rendered frozen in place, mouth opening and closing as if they were a fish out of water.
A beast twice the size of a Goliath dipped in and out of the shadows. It was unlike anything that Bloodhound had ever seen in their years of hunting. Large, jutting teeth, the size of brush cutting knives, threatened to maul them and crush their bones. Slobbery tendrils shuffled in the underbrush with thick, strong legs carried it across the forest floor. The exterior was covered in thick plates made from fortified green tissues, matching it to its jungle habitat.
“Back away – slowly.” Bloodhound whispered, already starting the slow steps back.
They didn’t have their weapons with them – besides Bloodhound’s axes – but those would do no good for Walter who was left defenseless save for his arm. They were both more than capable humans, but this was clear as day a losing battle. In sync they backed down for the creature as it gnashed and spat bile, agitated by their presence. This beast must have not been accustomed to seeing humans, making it all the more volatile.
Despite their best efforts, as they stepped back into the stream, the monster only became more enraged stomping forward with its thunderous feet. The waterfall next to them was equally as deafening, combined with their hearts rattling in their chest.
Walter looked at them over his shoulder, a slight glint of reckless mischief in his eye. “I think we’re just making it even more mad. I say we run.”
“Do not–”
Before the rest of the words could leave their mouth, Walter began to move away from them, directing the beast’s attention upstream and away from them.
“Hey you big ugly bastard – over here!” Walter called out to it, hoping to give Bloodhound an opening to find a swift solution to their current issue.
“You fool!” Bloodhound spat as they reached for their axe, watching the monster charge at their partner.
Rushing forward they tried to land a decent blow on the beast to no avail, their blade bouncing off the hard exterior. Roaring ferociously they kept on the attack as Walter kept dodging its swipes, keeping its attention on him. That was, at least until one of those tentacles slashed out to the side, smashing into Walter’s ribs unforgivingly. The man was sent flying, skipping over the surface of the creek like a stone, sliding to the edge and teetering for a moment, before disappearing, dropping down towards the rapids below.
Letting out a distressed cry, Bloodhound was hot on his heels, ducking under an incoming attack to reach the edge of the waterfall themself. They didn’t have much time to survey the bottom, only noting they did not see their lover there. Bloodhound knew the stories of how Walter had nearly drowned, but was saved due to Maggie’s intervention. His poor luck with water had only gotten worse, given that his arm would short circuit often, adding more dead weight to the mix.
Hearing the creature’s heavy feet fall behind them, Bloodhound had little time to think before committing to launching themself off the edge. Trying to keep themself upright and pencil straight on the way down, they plummeted down, mentally speaking prayers to the Allfather. Hitting the water, their respirator was almost immediately flooded with salt water and their goggles began to slowly fill. In these conditions, they wouldn’t be able to hold their breath for long. Their body was bertated by the current of the waterfall, thrashing them about and slamming their form against jagged rocks. One such hit slammed their arm against stone, causing a ripple of pain to shoot through the joint. They couldn’t scream out or even swear, they had to focus and force away the agony.
Forcing their body to work past the limits and persevere, they found Walter, through the fog of current. The man was trying to keep himself upright, bobbing up and down, only able to capture a mouthful of air when he breached the surface. With the last remaining pieces of their vision, they latched onto Walter, gurgling in pain as they held onto him with their damaged arm, before using their strength to anchor them to a rock with their axe. Walter used the leverage they provided to haul them up onto the jutting stone, helping them keep their head above water, caging them in firmly.
Both of them were coughing and spluttering, Bloodhound needing to remove their respirator to dump out and cough up the water. Wheezing and in pain, the couple used their remaining strength to pull themselves to the shore, crawling up the beach before flopping onto their backs, still clung to one another.
Taking their time to rest, Bloodhound held their arm with a groan while Walter began to laugh almost manically. It was entirely a wonder that they were both still alive. Not only that, but it had been ages since Walter had done something like this, and god he hadn’t felt so alive in recent memory.
“Bloody thing gave us a run for our money. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back. An eye for an eye–” Walter sat up, scanning Bloodhound up and down. “Or I guess in our case your arm.”
Pulling their goggles off of their face, they offered an unimpressed look before moving to check over their mangled appendage. It was horribly twisted and starting to swell under the sleeve of their shirt.
Grimacing, Walter gingerly helped his partner up. “After a good forty year long run of not breaking a bone, it seems your luck ran out dear.”
“All because of you being impatient!” Bloodhound grumbled, wincing as they raised their arm up to tuck it against their chest, a string of curses leaving their lips.
Nervously chuckling, Walter rubbed the back of his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll call Ajay to come and get you fixed up before our next match. Not to mention, at least we have our next target for a skull to add to our collection. This time it's going to be personal.”
Scoffing softly, Bloodhound allowed themself to be guided back home by Walter, a firm hand pressed against their lower back. The last thing either of them needed was for the adrenaline coursing through Bloodhound’s veins to wear off.
With dried clothes covering their body, they sat at the kitchen table, Ajay sat across from them, using a desk lamp for extra light as she applied plaster to their broken bone. Bloodhound chewed on a bundle of herbs, brought to them by the local healer to help curb their pain. In the meantime however, Ajay was busy giving Walter an earful, making her displeasure over this house-call known.
“Well, at the very least, I will be the first one to sign this for you.” Ajay smiled as finally everything was put into place. “Walter doesn’t deserve the honor after everything he’s put you through today.”
Walter scoffed indignantly at her words, his cheeks becoming a dusty pink.
D.O.C chirped, wanting to be included in the signing process as he pumped Bloodhound full of nano-bots; they would help mend their bones in time for their next Apex match. Reaching for a thick black marker in her back, Ajay leaned over and with a grin on her face and tongue peaking out from the corner of her mouth, she signed her name beautifully, along with D.O.C’s. Walter came over and plucked the pen out from her fingers, reaching over to also add his name to their arm, as well as a small ‘I’m sorry’ followed with a heart. Huffing in amusement, Bloodhound carefully studied their arm, the feeling of a cast over their skin felt strange.
Ajay rose to her feet, moving over to pat them on the shoulder. “Take it easy Bloodhound, don’t let Walter get you into any more trouble. I’d love to stay longer, but I have a sneaking suspicion Silva is getting himself into trouble somewhere. In any case, see you in the arena soon.”
Bidding her farewell, Bloodhound immediately collapsed into bed, the sky outside having gone dark long ago. Nursing their injured arm, they allowed themself to relax, eyes quickly growing heavy as a mustached lip pressed apologetic kisses to their scarred forehead. Despite the day's long events, for once they finally had a dreamless night, their night terrors bidding them farewell. It was almost as if the world was telling them that their burden of carrying decades worth of emotional baggage was finally over.